Two Wyoming Girls and Their Homestead Claim: A Story for GirlsMarshall, Caroline Louise
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Two Wyoming Girls and Their Homestead Claim: A Story for Girls
Marshall, Caroline Louise
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction; Homestead law -- West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
"August 30th," Mrs. Horton repeated, musingly; "let's see, this is the
15th. You've got two weeks and a day yet to wait. It don't give a
great amount of time to get money in, but it's a relief to know when
it's coming off, isn't it?"
Joe had been sitting in his corner, saying nothing, but, just at this
point, I saw him roll his eyes scornfully at our neighbor, and
wondered if it could be that the old man was jealous of her openly
expressed interest in the little family to which he laid prior claim.
"Yes," Jessie said, replying to Mrs. Horton's question: "It is a great
relief, and, after all, we've done about all that we can to make ready
for it."
"I'm not doubting that, still, I wish, now that we've thought of it,
that you did have time to earn a little more by sewing. How much are
the witnesses' fees?"
"Six dollars each; it will take eighteen dollars for that alone,"
Jessie told her.
"Eighteen dollars! and I don't suppose you can have much more than
that on hand!" Mrs. Horton's face lengthened. "I wish I had it to lend
you," she remarked, at last. "You could pay me in sewing; but Jake--"
We had heard of Mr. Horton's views on the money question. He always
ran bills at the store because, he said, a woman couldn't be trusted
with ready cash. "Give a woman her head and she'll spend all a man has
on knick-knacks!" was an observation with which even his chance
acquaintances were unduly familiar. How often, then, must his poor
wife have heard it.
Pitying her halting effort to give a good excuse for not having the
sum needed--when they were so wealthy--and still loyally shield her
tyrant, I said: "I'm sure the witnesses will not be at all hard on us;
they will be willing to wait a little if necessary, don't you think
so, Jessie?"
But before Jessie could reply, Joe interposed: "Mr. Wilson, he done
say he goin' gib me a chance for to wuck for him w'en I wants to;
mebbe I goin' want ter wuck out dem witness fee; no tellin'."
This was ambiguous, but we well understood that the old man did not
like to talk of business matters before strangers--as he regarded
every one outside the immediate family.
"Your first notice came out along in the spring, didn't it?" Mrs.
Horton inquired.
"In April," Jessie replied, and was silent, a dreamy look in her eyes,
while I vividly recalled the stormy day when father came back from a
visit to the post-office with the paper containing the first notice in
his hand. I heard the April rain beating against the window panes
while father told us children--for Jessie and I were children then; it
was so long ago, measured by heart-beats, oh! so long ago--that our
notice was out and the witnesses named.
Joe broke a little silence by remarking: "Dere's ten acres ob as fine
w'eat as ebber growed out doahs, a waitin' to be cut an' threshed
atwixt dat day an' dis."
"Ten acres!" Mrs. Horton echoed. "What a help that'll be to you! I do
hope you'll get it taken care of all right."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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